“I know.” He’s all sweetness, gently drawing me back into the house. “You believe her, about leaving town?”
“About as far as I can throw her.”
“Honestly, I think you could throw her pretty far, honey,” he teases, getting a weak laugh out of me. “But c’mon. If she’s still in town, someone will spot her.”
“So?”
“So let’s use the whisper tree of Heart’s Edge to our advantage,” he says, and I can feel his wicked grin against my skin, right where he kisses my neck. “Time to get on the phone.”
20
Horse of a Different Color (Holt)
It doesn’t take long to make a few strategic phone calls—mainly to Ms. Wilma and the guys.
Ms. Wilma Ford, the wise old owl of Heart’s Edge, hears everything from everyone.
Warren and Haley overhear almost as much when they’ve taken over running Charming Inn.
Doc and Ember get more gossip at The Menagerie than he’d ever like with women chatting him up at the vet’s office right in front of his wife until she chases them off, while Blake’s always got an ear to the ground with the fire department plus his dumbass radio show.
Same for Clarissa Regis, too, running Sweeter Things, which is always bustling. And her hubby, Leo, he’s a big damn man, and yet scary good at skulking around, seeing and hearing things he’s not meant to because he knows how to melt into the background.
Sooner or later, they’ll turn up something.
I trust them after our late-night meeting.
Later, Libby and I settle in on the sofa, her looking totally deflated.
I’m worried. She’s always carrying so much.
Don’t know what I can do besides hold her tight and promise it’ll be okay.
So I do—pulling her into my lap to sit cradled sideways across my thighs.
Sometimes it’s startling how light she is.
How small.
How fragile.
Yet she’s got this larger-than-life presence that takes up a room in all the best ways, overwhelming it.
If she drowns me with her light, then maybe I don’t want to come up for air.
She seems almost shrunken now, curled against me with one hand resting over my heart and her head on my shoulder.
Her eyes are closed.
Up this close, I can see details I never quite caught before. Most of the time when we’re pressed up on each other like this we’re hungry, grasping, seeing who can rip each other’s clothes off the fastest.
Her eyelashes are thick and dark—but they’re actually a dark, shimmery bronze, so dense they look black all clustered together.
She’s only got a few freckles, sunspots on her cheeks.
I count them, six total, each one adorable against her suntanned skin.
There’s a tiny scar cut through one eyebrow. The sort of thing you don’t really pay attention to at first, thread-thin, and so old I can imagine her as a rambunctious kid, falling on her face.
She’s got another one, too. Newer, but still a few years old, a delicate line crossing the crest of her jaw.
Right where those assholes bruised her up.
And though her bruises are faded and she looks like she’s never been hurt, I can’t help but hold her tighter as this protective urge churns in my gut.
I keep watching her with silent fascination.
Think I could love this woman for hours with my eyes.
Dammit, but I think I’m in love.
We stay like that for so long I think she’s drifting off, her breathing slower.
Until she cracks one eye open, peeking at me and biting her lip.
“Hey, so…” she starts uncertainly.
“Yeah?” I shift her weight a little, settling her deeper into my lap.
“You, um, you said some pretty heavy stuff at The Nest.”
“Sally?” I raise a brow.
“No, you jerk.” She lightly swats my chest. “That stuff you said to me. About me. At least I think it was about me. I’m gonna be mighty pissed if it wasn’t.”
I grin. “You want to enlighten me, honey? What’d I say, exactly?”
She scowls, and now that I’ve seen it, I can’t help but notice how that tiny scar draws up clearer when she does. “You know what you said. Don’t make me repeat it.”
“Why? Does it embarrass you?”
“Yes!” she growls, glaring. “You said that I…”
“That you have my heart,” I say bluntly, and she makes a strangled sound, swatting me again.
“You can’t say stuff like that out loud!” she hisses. “That snake charmer stuff doesn’t work on me.”
“No snake charming here, or snake oil.” I shrug. “I wasn’t just running my mouth, Libby. I’m not into anyone but you. Turns out, I do have a monogamous bone in my body.”
“Don’t even talk to me about your bone. I’m too familiar,” she mutters, biting back a smile.
Then she darts me a shy look, before looking away, folding her arms over her chest. Makes quite the picture, sitting there perched in my lap but all riled up.
“Did you mean it, Holt? Really?”
“I did,” I promise. “Look, maybe we crashed into each other like two speeding trains. Maybe we fell headfirst in the weirdest way possible, but hell.” I gather her closer, resting my chin on top of her head. “You feel good. You feel right. And I’m not denying it. I’d like to stick around, if you’ll have me.”